In this Story... with Joanne Greene Podcast Por Joanne Greene arte de portada

In this Story... with Joanne Greene

In this Story... with Joanne Greene

De: Joanne Greene
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 Joanne Greene shares her flash nonfiction, each essay with custom music, showcasing tales and observations from her animated life. Her book, "By Accident: A Memoir of Letting Go" is now available as a paperback, e-book, and audiobook from Amazon, Audible, Barnes & Noble, and your local independent book seller.GreeneCreative Ciencias Sociales
Episodios
  • A Nearly Extinct Private Language

    A Nearly Extinct Private Language
    Jun 10 2025
    In this story, a nearly extinct private language. I’m Joanne Greene.
    Every family has its special phrases. You know, the ones that crack you up while everyone outside of the immediate circle tilts their heads like a dog saying “huh”?
    Can you ever agree on whether it’s mischievous or mischeivious? (The former.) Is it “on accident” or “by accident”? Clearly, the latter.
    In 2002, years before my sister Rayna was too sick to laugh, her husband created a lengthy document entitled The Joys of Raynglish, “the language of Rayna Gay Rosenzweig Rodvien.”
    To begin, everyone in Rayna’s life had a series of nicknames. Our mother, Irene, was also known as beans, ahrene, beans a roo, beans terrific, and of course ahrennee gabeenee.
    I was affectionately referred to as jo, Jo Mamma, josphesus , Mademoyzel, Josephine, and simply, the plumber (with a Boston accent, plumah). (Some of you might remember Josephine the plumber.)
    Phrases like “What’s your story, morning glory?” What’s your matter? And How are you this very morning?” were her frequent salutations.
    If you were running late, and God help you, she’d say “Yo! Move it or lose it!” “We’re late, for a very important date!” “Get crackin’” or “Hoof it to poof it”
    When her memory failed her in the moment, she’d refer to nouns as whootsa matootsies, thingamajiggy, whatchama call its, whoozie whatsits and the ever populular whatcha ma floozy.
    Other notable Raynglish words and phrases: Correctamundo! Hold your pants! Whoop de do!” Don’t staht with me Busteroo!”, You ain’t whistling dixiola and Let’s blow this pop stand; we’re outa here.
    And if you think I’m running out, perish the thought. From my big sister I learned
    “What part of the word NO don’t you understand?
    “I’m not deaf, I’m just ignoring you”
    And “Any port in a storm”…that one is so useful.
    I miss all the Yiddish we used to share – chatchkees, fapootsed, shilpkes, ungapachkeyed, mishegass and Shayna panemal…madela, punim or tatela.
    Chocolate – milk, never dark – was Rayna’s love language. She proudly described herself as a tootsaholic – someone who would start popping tootsie rolls before 10am. Here motto: chocolate: It’s not just for breakfast anymore. Once her cancer was stage four, she’d order hot fudge sundaes as her main course for lunch. And heaven help the waiter who didn’t bring it with everyone else’s salad, or worse, tried to pass off chocolate syrup as hot fudge.
    Children were Rayna’s favorite people – Most were munchkins; all were cutesy tootsy.
    And when her children mispronounced or misused a word, that’s it. It was now part of the lexicon. Thus, United Market became Mynited. Grandma Essie didn’t live in Miami; she lived in her ami. If more than one phone call came in for someone, they were POPLEAR. A homerun or extra credit was FABLEEOS.
    So many words and phrases acquired their own suffixes. For instance, if someone said the word Life, Rayna would add “to life, to life, l’chayim!” If she heard someone referred to as rude, she’d respond by saying “rude, crude, and socially unacceptable.” To “you got it”, she’d add “Totoya”… Progress would then necessitate her adding “is our most important product.” And “I don’t know” would elicit “That makes two of us.”
    And finally, her verbal love language…
    Topogeege….(you might remember the mouse on the Ed Sullivan show)
    Mista Pista
    Swootzie
    And Tootsie me doots.

    I’ve got places to go, people to see, she’d say…. F you and the horse you rode in on! And her signature display of gratitude, THANKING YOOM!
    Thanks to Bob for gathering all of this and so much more in one place. Here’s hoping that your private language brings you joy.

    Joanne’s book, “By Accident: A Memoir of Letting Go” is now available from your favorite online book seller. Stay tuned to hear if Joanne will be speaking at a bookstore near you. If you’re interested in having her come to your local bookstore, contact her directly at joannergreene@gmail.com or get updates on her website at joanne-greene.com and make sure to sign up for her newsletter!
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    5 m
  • Sleep Interruptus

    Sleep Interruptus
    May 16 2025
    In this story, sleep interruptus. I’m Joanne Greene.
    When I opened my eyes, I noticed that I was in a very comfortable bed, my son’s bed, that is my son and his wife’s bed, the fourth bed I’d slept in that night. This nighttime bed hopping is part of my role as grandma. Yoyo, they call me. It’s a moniker first shared by my great nephew, now 25 years old.
    The night began with a reading of Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, a classic story that teaches acceptance of differences, kindness, tolerance, and flexibility, with a healthy dose of humor. Axel was a very tired four-year old, after a day at the STEAM festival, operating a flight simulator, drilling with safety goggles, building a small wiggle bott, assembling a light switch, reading books at the library, and completing a transportation puzzle. I lied next to him in his bed until his steady breathing let me know that he was, in fact, asleep. Then I snuck out of the room for a break until I would be inevitably called to do the same with his older sister, Lisette, once her aunt said goodnight after listening to her read Shel Silverstein poems. Predictably, she requested that Yoyo come up and stay with her for a while.
    After watching the final quarter in which the Warriors won their playoff game, I got into bed to read. Ten minutes later, I was fast asleep. And it’s a good thing because, an hour later, Axel arrived to join me in bed. He fell back to sleep; I did not. When Fred arrived, he was shocked to see a sleeping child and kindly agreed to carry him back up to his own bed. Finally, sleep returned for me. But not for long. When Lisette arrived and shook my arm, I startled.
    “Why do you always jump when I wake you up?” she asked. Apparently, her parents are so accustomed to being awakened this way that they just open their eyes. She crawled into bed between us but then reported that she felt squished. And so, I walked her back upstairs and, in hopes of returning to sleep as quickly as possible, I got into her bed. But she was coughing intermittently, and squirming around, and it was both too light in her room due to the projected stars on the walls and ceiling, and too warm for me. And so, when she calmed down enough for me to escape, I did.
    Returning to my original bed felt great, until Fred started snoring, and then cracked his knuckles. I hate the sound of cracking knuckles. And then I felt sorry for myself, wanting only some peace and quiet. I tapped him on the arm and said that I was going up to our son’s room and hoped to sleep in. And, by that I meant that I’d like not to be disturbed, at least for the first morning shift.
    About an hour later, I heard the pitter pat of little feet. The door to my son’s bedroom, my temporary sanctuary, was opened and closed. Loudly. Axel then went downstairs to sleep with Grandpa, after hearing why Yoyo wasn’t in the bed.
    I awoke at 6:58am, which may sound early but, in fact, was a relatively civilized time to arise when in charge of the littles. I stumbled downstairs in search of coffee, a veritable lifeline, and began making their breakfasts. How is it that I love everything about this so much. I can sleep next week when we’re home. Or maybe even here tonight, when their parents will be the first line of defense. Sleep, for the most part, is overrated.

    Joanne’s book, “By Accident: A Memoir of Letting Go” is now available from your favorite online book seller. Stay tuned to hear if Joanne will be speaking at a bookstore near you. If you’re interested in having her come to your local bookstore, contact her directly at joannergreene@gmail.com or get updates on her website at joanne-greene.com and make sure to sign up for her newsletter!
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    4 m
  • There's More Than One Boston Accent

    There's More Than One Boston Accent
    May 2 2025
    In this story, there’s more than one Boston accent. I’m Joanne Greene.
    For many, if not most of you, the words “merry”, “marry” and “Mary” are all pronounced the same way. Merry, merry, merry. But for me, born and raised just outside of Boston, they are three distinct words…Listen closely.
    “Merry” is generally associated with Christmas, as in MERRY Christmas.
    “Marry” is what happens at a wedding. She will MARRY her partner.
    And “Mary” is a name. Mary J Blige…Mary Oliver…Mary Quite Contrary.
    There’s nothing that gives me the heeby jeebies more than someone trying and failing to deliver an authentic Boston accent. And people do it all the time, in person and – worse – in movies.
    Insert example of bad Boston accent
    It’s a litmus test. Actors can master a British accent, a southern drawl, or Brooklyn speak with minimal effort but the real sound of any number of Boston accents must be and rarely is right on the money. Either the person is from Boston, has at least lived in Boston, or they haven’t. Case closed. Mark Wahlberg , Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, …..these actors can pull it off, precisely because they were, at one pivotal, formative time in their lives, proper Bostonians.
    Boston accents can be funny…or erudite…They can make one sound as dumb as rocks or as smaaaht as a very smaaat Hahvad educated cah.
    Insert excerpt of Smaht Cah commercial
    The subtleties are worth noting.
    Take the word horse, for example, HORSE.
    It’s “HAHSS”, if you come from, say, most of Boston proper
    In Southie, South Boston to the uninitiated, it might sound more like “HAWSS”
    Where I grew up, in Brookline, the mounted police (mounties, of course) rode a “HOOAS”.
    One common thread in all Boston accents is the dropping of the “r” sound…but don’t get too carried away with this rule as Bostonians also add an “r” sound, when it’s not there, to separate two vowels. For instance, “Rayna and Bob” in a standard American accent becomes “RayneranBob” in the mouth of a Bostonian. The nuances abound, which is why the accent is so tough to get right.
    When I first moved to the San Francisco Bay Area and applied for an on-air job in radio, I was told that I had to lose the regionalism. What regionalism I questioned? Californians often mistook me for a New Yorker, but I assured them that what they were picking up was East Coast, possibly Jewish, energy and speech patterns. I went to a voice coach and worked on it, which is why I eventually did get hired to speak on the radio and why, today, only the most sophisticated accent detectors can pin me down as a gal from Brookline.
    I share all of this in the hopes of saving you the trouble, and avoiding the inevitable humiliation, of trying & failing to imitate a Boston accent. Maybe, just maybe, you can say “pahk the cah in Hahvad yad” but that’s it. Promise?

    Joanne’s book, “By Accident: A Memoir of Letting Go” is now available from your favorite online book seller. Stay tuned to hear if Joanne will be speaking at a bookstore near you. If you’re interested in having her come to your local bookstore, contact her directly at joannergreene@gmail.com or get updates on her website at joanne-greene.com and make sure to sign up for her newsletter!
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    4 m
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